Paul and Elizabeth's

The Surprising Risks of Unsurprising Restaurants

“I’m not the most adventurous eater...I don’t like surprises” my Dad remarks, as we stroll down Main Street in Northampton, Massachusetts. He’s nervous about the strong flavors common in many vegetarian restaurants. I roll my eyes at him as we walk up the warmly lit spiral staircase to Paul and Elizabeth’s Natural Foods Restaurant. 

After following the mingling aroma of fresh, cooking vegetables, searing fish, and popping sesame oil in dizzying spirals we arrive on a landing with a panoramic view of the restaurant. Over twenty wooden tables occupy the spacious dining room, set with oils, vinegar, salt, pepper, and votive candles. Native American portraits and rugs stretch across high walls towards the ceiling, and the ivy, fairy-light adorned wine rack and register counter resemble a gazebo basking in the light of an early summer evening. It is an airy, open space dominated by earthy colors, wooden floors and surfaces.  

For over thirty years Paul and Elizabeth’s has been a successful restaurant in Northampton, located inside Thornes Marketplace on Main Street, a busy area in the heart of the town.  Paul and Elizabeth’s specializes in “natural” and pesca-vegetarian foods; their signature dishes include pan-fried cod, tempura prepared a number of ways, massive vegetable specialities, and immensely popular whole wheat popovers. Most of their food is Asian or New England inspired; their menu frequently references ginger, tamari, lemon, and butter. 

The diners are ensconced in food and conversation, waving forks for emphasis, laughing contently, wine glasses in hand and leaning eagerly across the tables so as to better communicate with their dining companions. This was the case for both lunch and dinner-I had dined at Paul and Elizabeth’s for lunch a few days prior and the house was full, with background conversations providing that level of satisfied calm one expects from a well-serviced restaurant. 

The service is excellent, with prompt seating and serving. The waiters (of all different ages) are well-versed in the menu, able to tell you what is freshest that day and to offer recommendations, and substitutions based on dietary restrictions. They’re friendly, and genuinely want you to have the best experience. 

Enormous platters of food float steadily through the air, held at chin level by waiters who no doubt gain upper body strength with each shift. A platter is meant for one person, although it could easily serve four. These bloated portions of vegetarian meals give the impression that the chefs are compensating for lack of flavor, nutrition, or calories. More importantly, being confronted with such a mountain of food presents an uncomfortable challenge for the diner.

Paul and Elizabeth’s boasts a fairly extensive wine and beer list, highlights that include classic Italian and French Pinots, Sauvignons, Chardonnay and Merlot, as well as organic white and red wines from Oregon, two brews of Sake, and a large selection of craft ale and beers. We order two glasses of Stella Pinot Grigio, and at six dollars a glass it is definitely worth it. The wine is refreshing yet retains subtle notes of dryness; unlike many cheap whites, it’s not easy to drink the Stella quickly although it is very smooth. 

Side salads accompany all seafood and tempura dishes, and are crisp and of reasonable size (4-6 ounces). A plain medley of crisp and bitter greens with earthy, sweet shaved carrots is served with a choice in five house-made dressings. I choose the balsamic vinaigrette. The vinaigrette is excellent, if a bit too creamy. They also have daily soups and a conglomeration of appetizers with their choice Asian inspired flavor scheme, ranging from $3 for a bowl of soup to $8 for an antipasti special.

Asking for their freshly baked whole wheat popover is definitely recommended, as it is one of the most popular items for a reason. Aesthetically, it is the perfect popover with a massive and airy dome and thick cylindrical bottom. The innards are soft and grainy, thick at the bottom and much lighter near the top of the muffin. The vaguest hint of sweetness (maple syrup or honey no doubt, as they use all-natural unrefined

sweeteners) peeks out from behind each fluffy mouthful. My only complaint is that it wasn’t served warm.

Scanning the menu, I can choose from 7 main course salad dishes, 3 noodle, or 6 vegetable specialities.  I order a special of the season, a colorful display of seasonal vegetables and brown rice pan-cooked in sesame, olive oil, ginger and garlic. However, there are about four cups of vegetables on my “plate” (more like a serving dish) and three cups of rice. It is an enormous serving. The baby bok choy are limp, their dark green leaves clinging in a wrinkled heap to the rice for dear life. They’re chewy and taste like olive oil, with no hint of crunch or bitterness even in their thick white stems. The carrots and zucchini, however, are not limp nor vivaciously crunchy, but a pleasing middle ground. The carrots retain their earthiness and the zucchini their sweet freshness. I wait fruitlessly for the spicy, sweet ginger to present itself to me but am disappointed. The flavors of the two oils overwhelm the ginger and garlic completely, and I feel the urge to use my napkin to soak up a bit of the extra oils on the veggies (the popover does just fine). This is where I turn to the placement of extra oils and seasonings on the table; the salt and pepper are a quite necessary addition to my meal. The vegetables may be fresh but they are inconsistently cooked and the oils conceal much of the flavors one expects from fresh produce, as well as the Asian-inspired flavors promised to me on the menu.

My father orders their pan-fried fillet of sole, breaded and cooked with capers, lemon and herb-butter. It seems that the overwhelming rice portions are only served with the vegetarian dishes, as his dish is served with a reasonable half cup of baked brown rice. However, he has two large (5-7 inches long, three inches wide) fillets of sole, a challenge even for his large appetite. The capers cover the entire dish and are untouched by heat--suggesting that the sole was not cooked with the capers but that they were a post-frying addition. The ubiquitous capers take away from the presentation, completely covering the fish, hiding it from view as if it is something unpleasant. Although I am vegan, I indulge in a small forkful of the fillet. Like the ginger from my vegetable dish, the salty bitterness of the capers is no where to be found, considering they were tossed on the sole rather than allowing their juices to be absorbed into the flesh with heat. The breadcrumbs adds just a slight crunch to the stiff, opaque meat. The fish is thankfully not overcooked, pan-fried on each side for perhaps three minutes-- the outer layer of skin is cooked through and the inside layers flake away and almost melt in my mouth. Tangy lemon juice is front and center, enhancing the the lightly salted sole so that both flavors present themselves equally. However, the herb-butter is very rich, nearly overwhelming the subtly flavored white fish.

We sit back in our chairs, very full, and I’m longing for a flavor satisfaction that was definitely missing from our food. Our waiter has arrived with a dessert menu featuring a medley of fresh, fruity desserts and pies as well as two kinds of vintage port. Alas, having consumed enough dinner for a week (even though we both could not finish our dishes) we decide against dessert. Perhaps more veteran diners are able to make room for dessert, however, because looking into the dining room, couples and families are passing vegan mousse and mocha custard around tables, groaning with delight and passing compliments on to the pastry chef.

  For how much food we were served, the prices were quite reasonable. All main dishes are under twenty, and some as low as $8.25. With a few glasses of wine, a meal for two came to 42 dollars. My father is delighted with the quality of the food, and price. He seems satisfied that there were no surprises in the flavors or textures of the meal. Although I yearn for adequate flavor satisfaction, was taken-aback by the portion sizes and overcooked vegetables, our experience at Paul and Elizabeth’s was very pleasant. So relaxed, in fact, that our waiter gave me his number with the check!

As we prepare to stumble back to the Autumn Inn, I fantasize about pulling down one of the Navajo rugs and napping beneath the wine rack in preparation for the uphill slog on a full stomach. It’s then I realize that although Paul and Elizabeth’s provides a soothing and calm experience, perhaps that is the 31 year old restaurant’s problem; they’ve gotten too comfortable.